


Curse of Hunger

by Nyanshadowforce



Category: MCSM, Minecraft: Story Mode - Fandom
Genre: And there's the shame, Body Dysphoria, Body Horror, Established Relationship, F/F, Feeding Kink, Is it possible for something to be both shameful and shameless, stomach mouth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-03-02
Packaged: 2019-03-21 22:22:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13750410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyanshadowforce/pseuds/Nyanshadowforce
Summary: Petra feels like her hunger has been out of control lately, like her own appetite is trying to eat her alive. Maybe because's she's been limiting herself, or indulging too much, or downright ignoring it. She didn't know the half of it until the morning she met her Curse of Hunger.





	1. Waking

It was a time in the morning where the borders between what was night and what was dawn became murky. The clock read _2 A.M._ , but her body called it nothing more than a time where Petra should have been asleep and a time to ask herself why the hell she was awake and groggy as she was, and why her stomach felt so damn _strange_. 

Not aching anymore, but not settled either. Displaced, but she refused to bother with it anymore. Worrying about it would only make it worse. 

Time passed in droves as she laid there, waiting for sleep to take her again. Sleep refused her, however, and thoughts from various characters in Lukas’s made-up stories to ideas of what she could or should do instead of wait for sleep drifted by in her topor like the clouds out her window in the moonless sky. 

A moonless night, or morning. She’d always preferred a sky with no moon. Ivor had told her in a late night discussion weeks ago that the moon had somewhat of its own auras, and it could have been a cause of restless sleeps in some. 

Mostly those with the “ _Beast Blood_ ”, he’d called it. That latter was probably slipped in to scare her. It didn’t- Werewolves weren’t real. At least she hoped they weren’t. 

Now that Petra considered it, the idea _mostly_ didn’t scare her. At least the moon wasn’t showing its face to challenge her on that rite. 

She turned over onto her back; Facing the window only hindered any traces of sleep that she could latch onto, ones she would have desperately reached for if they came to her, because the Order’s battles of the former day had been taxing and she’d have rather not stay up for the rest of the morning and greet the others for breakfast with bags under her eyes and a sting of tired hostility in her voice. Going to bed with a nasty stomach ache had warned of that to begin with, but at least it had only been replaced by unease.

Several more minutes passed. Her eyes closed, her mind beginning to drift into foggy respite. 

The bliss of sleep returning at long last was half-lived. There was a muffled groan from her stomach, because of _course_ it had to rouse her at a point so early in the dawn where most wouldn't consider it dawn. Petra’s arm drifted under the sheets to run a hand over her stomach and calm its irritation. 

The moment she touched the flesh of her belly, her hand froze. It was warm, as it should have been. Soft as it should have been, although softer than she’d like. What had sent a shock up her spine was the feeling of something hard just beneath the surface of her skin, something that may have been bone but was something that didn’t belong have any right to be there regardless. 

It couldn't have been bone, could it?. Her stomach stuck out more than it used to, and back when it hadn’t, one could push in certain spots to feel bone. But that was no longer possible. 

Maybe she wished it was possible, but that was the least of her worries now. She pushed her fingers over it again with even more hesitance, but whatever rested under her skin hadn’t gone or been an illusion. Petra continued the motion, heart rate increasing as she discovered the hard spot was only one of many solid bumps in a row.

The curve of her gut suddenly _twitched_ under her touch, groaning again.

The comfort of sleep was forgotten in a single moment as she flew from the covers, turning the oil lamp on the desk and stumbling to swing open the closet door. An old, long, silver-backed mirror hung on the inside. Petra looked herself up and down, her blood cold. 

The warm amber light of the lamp would have been more comforting if it hadn’t been used to show the long, strange crease that had formed over her belly, stretching just to her sides as if it were the remnants of her gut being cut open and stitched back together again years ago. It _looked_ like a scar, a dark maroon crease across her skin. 

It had to be some kind of nightmare. That’s what stomach aches did when people went to bed with them, right? 

She pinched herself in the side, but it only brought more pain. The gesture prompted the mark to twitch again flesh pulled up in a brief snarl to reveal a flash of ivory white before closing again, letting out a quiet growl as it did. 

Nightmare. It was just a nightmare, a nightmare, A bad dream! That’s all it was. 

Her heart and every thought she could have had stopped dead in the silence. The “scar” slowly split open, its movement sluggish and leisurely. The white became visible again, jaws opening in full to reveal two rows of white-gray teeth, each fang hanging thick and pointed like the stone formations of the earth’s depths. A grotesque tentacle heavy with saliva emerged with the poised chops- a tongue -curling out into the air as the cavernous maw moaned. it closed for a moment when it finally finished, but opened briskly to run its tongue over its teeth like a hungry beast. 

It was a mouth. On her stomach. And it had _yawned._

Petra took a step back as if to flee, but that would have been impractical. This was inside of her, _part_ of her, and there were only so many parts of herself she could run from. This? This wasn’t one of them. It wasn’t a nightmare she could wake up from, she realized. 

Though she’d reached a point where nightmare and reality had crossed. Lord knew Petra had experienced worse in both her dreams and reality, but that didn’t mean another curve ball from life was appreciated. 

With all the magic in the world she’d seen, it was possible. Chunks of dirt become gold, a potion that could transform man into dragon, spells to summon winged demons and dark voids- There was a lot she hadn’t seen in this world on top of everything she had. Apparently some bit of magic unbeknownst to her had crawled its way up from the bowels of the nether and decided to make its home in her gut. 

Maybe it had been rash to grab the knife stuck in the other side of the closet door and hold it inward towards her gut, but there were so many more severe actions she could have taken in the rush of adrenaline. 

She flinched and grasped the dagger tighter as it growled again. Whether the noise was directed at her or it was being vocal so much as to make noise, she wasn’t sure. 

It wasn’t a standoff. Unless she up and stuck her hand into the mess of teeth, it couldn’t harm her. At the same time, what good would holding the monster at knifepoint do? It was part of her. She could feel it, the writing of its tongue and each twitch of skin that seemed as though it was bound to pull into a full snarl. What was worse than the rows of teeth and dripping slobber was that she couldn't control it no matter how much she tried in intense focus. 

So what the hell was she supposed to do now? 

\-------------

Tearing books from her own shelves and flipping through the pages of various enchantments and weapons heeded her nothing. Not that a mouth in one’s stomach would count as a weapon. Petra hadn’t expected it too regardless, and she hadn’t even bothered touching the romance novels. 

The only place or person that would have information on whatever magic behind the maw was Ivor. Ivor, who had a tendency to be rather snippy with being woken up or finding anyone searching through his books. Especially in the cold months when his body became heavily reliant on sleep. 

Wait. 

_Ivor._

He couldn’t, could he? No, he could. He’d done worse before, but would he? 

There weren’t any “prank wars” going on that Petra knew of. The last ones to participate in one were Axel and Jessie, and they’d finished off months ago. Not anything Ivor would be involved in, but she knew the alchemist had taken sides before. Even for him, this was severe to even be considered a prank, let alone a nightmare. 

Their long-fought hatred and rivalry over the wither skull had diminished. At least, Petra thought it had. She and Ivor ate together, spoke late into the night of their dreams and nightmares and experiences. He’d healed her wounds and she’d retrieved blaze rods for his alchemy stands, He… He’d read stories to she and Jessie when they’d run out of their own stories to tell in the late night, and spoke until his voice became weak, His sword was the one that sliced at any hand seeking to bring harm to her. Hell, she’d even used him as a pillow, as much as the warrior hated to acknowledge that. 

He loved her, didn’t he? 

He’d been a part of some things she’d rather him not, though. She and Jesse had been the driving force of supplying her with cakes, pastries, chocolate, and everything in between for months now. Things she made clear that she’d rather not have a plethora of in her diet right about now. 

The winter months were hard enough as is; Too quiet, too cold, nothing to do. Training could only entertain her so much. They’d been blessed with a full pantry, sure, but that made it all the more difficult to avoid eating more than she should have. She already had done that, her waistline considered. 

The thought stung even more as the possibility slowly pieced together in her mind. She’d gone to bed with a nasty stomach ache, and woken up with a beast in her belly...

A stomach ache she’d only gotten after taking one of Ivor’s offered healing potions. She’d gotten a few cuts and bruises after exploring and fighting what hid within a ruin with Jesse and the others, and although she would have made it fine without the potion, it was accepted eagerly. Only after that and a few morsels of golden apple had the stomach ache hit. 

Petra roughly sat on the edge of her bed, legs feeling weaker than they should have, her heart not much different. 

Damn him. 

This wasn’t okay, it wasn’t funny or cute or helpful. It was terrifying. 

And she’d fix it without him. She didn’t need an alchemist, the warrior of the order of the stone could fix this herself. 

Petra crossed her arms, one leg propped up on the bed frame while the other tapped on the ground in impatience. Although it had been surprisingly well-behaved during her desperate search and contemplation, her stomach had returned to growling every few minutes, each grumble growing deeper and more coarse. 

She didn’t have a lot of options to fix anything now. All except… 

It was her stomach. It was growling, it didn’t seem to want to hurt her. What more could it want than food? 

Petra glanced at the clock. _3:07 A.M._

Maybe not a midnight snack, but an early breakfast wouldn’t hurt anyone. Still hesitant to anger or rouse the beast in her gut, Petra leaned down carefully to open the drawer of her nightstand, pulling out a small paper packet. It crinkled in her hand as she opened it to reveal the cookies inside. They were some of the one’s Lukas had made a few days ago, kept just fresh enough to be considered something decent to snack on in the late night by Petra’s own standards. 

Her stomach snarled garishly as soon as Petra set her eyes on the treats, causing her to jump and gasp lightly. Her hand trembled as a cookie was lowered to her waist.

“Now- now don’t think you can try anythi-” 

The cookie was snatched by the maw’s tongue before she could finish, the mouth closing just as soon as it opened. 

Simultaneously, she didn’t feel quite as hungry anymore. 

The surprise was cut off by chill shooting up her spine as the maw’s tongue lolled out again licking the crumbs from her fingers before she had the thought to pull them back. It would have been cute like a dog licking one’s dirtied hand, but the slobber- technically _her_ slobber -happened to make things much less comforting. 

The mouth on her stomach closed, rumbling in a way that almost sounded pleased. 

Well, actually… 

If she was going to deal with it, she may as well get used to it. Understand how to please it. It didn’t seem to want to hurt her, and if it wanted to, it would have gone for her wrist a moment ago rather than the baked treat. It wouldn't have been the first time it felt like her appetite was trying to eat her alive, but this was still far better than the alternative.. 

After all, She’d done far weirder than eat by feeding snacks to the mess of teeth that her stomach had become. 

“Hungry, weren’t you?” She lightly patted above her stomach. It rumbled softly again in response, a noise like the purr of an ocelot pleased with attention. 

“It’s alright, we’ll get more. Just have to wait until breakfast.” 

Talking to her stomach wasn’t a first either, but it may as well have been talking to herself. There were only so many ways to pass time until the morning.


	2. Breakfast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breakfast doesn't go as smoothly as planned, Jesse's cooking be damned.

Five hours since the growling had started. Five hours, and the maw in her stomach had refused to stop doing anything but demand more, even after Petra had run out of food to give. 

Four hours where Petra had refused to acknowledge it, turning over in bed with the blankets completely cocooning her attempting to hide from something that was a part of her. Sleep was warded away with every growl, however muffled, each one gradually shifting into louder and more desperate hunger pangs. 

The dawn and the stirring of the temple’s residents that followed was both a curse and a blessing. There was breakfast to be had, more food to be had, but only past a wall of the family who cared for her far too much and often knew immediately when something was wrong or out of place. 

Petra winced as her stomach snarled again. Tenderly she set a hand over it, and it quieted after several gentle strokes. 

“You need to calm down, alright? I can get you food, but only if you’re quiet.” She had no idea whether or not it would listen to her, especially when it was so desperate for a meal. Whether the maw was truly its own being was still up for internal debate, but it sure as hell seemed like it. Especially when her words seemed to actually sooth the beast. Well, at least for a short time. 

With her stomach tamed, Petra snatched a heavy sweater from the closet that had been left ajar- a sweater she’d taken from Ivor, she realized as it hung baggy over certain parts of her frame when she’d put it on -before slinking down the stairs and to the kitchen where the rest of the Order of the Stone mingled in the morning dreary. 

She had only just looked around the corner before her stomach snapped at her again. There was a rumble low in her gut as the smell of food was sensed, accompanied with the mild nausea that often came with heavy scents when one was sick or starving. 

Considering her situation, Petra was unable to decide if she was one or both. 

She patted her stomach again over her sweater in attempt to calm it, which worked again somewhat as the rumble died down. Petra knew it wouldn’t last long, though. not unless she met the hunger’s request and got some food in her, _fast._

Which would be easy considering Jesse appeared to be at the helm of cooking breakfast this morning. Petra recognized the scent of maple and batter accompanied by a distinct sizzling; Pancakes this time, probably some other things too, with how busily Jesse moved throughout her work station with Lukas having to narrowly avoid collisions as he assisted her. The white apron she wore was patched and stained, her hair tied back in a braid as to keep it out of the food. She looked so intent, so carefully focused as she poured another dollop of batter onto the griddle. Watching her cook, it was a bit easier to understand when someone described the creation of something as being “Made with love”. 

It was always so cute when Jesse put her hair up like that, too; Petra wondered why she didn’t wear the look more. 

She strolled in as casually as someone could when they’d been awake far too long and were hiding a body part that wasn’t there the previous day just underneath their clothes, pulling out a chair and sitting close enough to the table for it to touch just beneath her chest.

Axel, who was just across the table from her, lifted his head to glace at Petra curiously. There was a dull look in his eyes, but they had just enough life for eye contact to reveal a tired interest. 

“You okay?” 

“Y- Yeah.” Petra stuttered. “Just tired.” 

And that couldn’t have been more obvious of a lie, with how stiff and restless she sat in her chair. Axel shrugged, his eyes trailing back down to the papers held in his right hand. “If you say so. Just don’t keep yourself here if you’re sick or something. Jesse wouldn’t mind.” 

Petra bit back a whimper as she, from the corner of her eye, watched Jesse set down several large plates. Each was stacked to a decent height with alluring foods from pancakes to sausages and even a smaller pan of cinnamon rolls on the side. 

Her grip on the edge of the table became apparent to her, but was overshadowed by the start of another rumble just under the table. 

_Stop it._

The growl was soft, but just audible enough for Olivia, who had taken a seat beside her, to glance over. 

_No! You’re better than this!_

Before Olivia had the chance to open her mouth, Petra hissed “I’m _fine._ ” 

For just a moment Olivia seemed startled, but the look faded as she shrugged her shoulders. “Relax. It’ll be ready in just a minute.” 

Petra took a slow breath. _Get a hold of yourself._

“Uh… Yeah. Sorry I snapped at you.” 

“I forgive you,” Petra jumped with the unexpected pat from Olivia to her back. “Nothing wrong with being snappy. It’s too early anyways.” 

It would have been easier to agree if she hadn’t been awake since before the sun had risen that morning. She appreciated the forgiveness nonetheless, nodding weakly. 

Jesse pulled the string of an old rusted cowbell hung up next to the stove. Its ring was as chiming and abrupt as her call.“Breakfast is ready!” 

Within a moment’s notice, Ivor and Harper miraculously appeared at the table, Radar following carefully behind them with much less anticipation. All of them, however, looked to be some level of sleepy- There was no doubt they’d only woken up within the last hour, but if there was anything that would get Ivor up, it was food. Harper had never been as eager as him, but she followed nonetheless. The same excitement for food didn’t exactly apply to Radar. For the most part, he just wanted to be included, and The Order already welcomed him with open arms. 

Petra began to move from her chair and follow the others in picking food for their plates, but she stopped. Would the others see something? How well could she trust her gut so close to food? 

Her legs moved back under the table. Petra’s heart skipped a beat when Jesse sat on her other side, her own plate filled with an array of the fresh and far-too delicious looking foods she’d spent most of the morning making. It had been a miracle that Petra’s belly stayed silent at the sight of it, but a feeling of instability refused to withdraw. 

Her voice was maybe a little too desperate as she tapped Jesse’s shoulder. “Hey, Jess? Can you grab some food for me?” 

“Oh, sure!” Jesse had only just sat down, but her chair was pushed out again without hesitation, her smile far too sunny and warm for a Monday morning. “What would you like?” 

_Everything- No, no you don’t._ “Ah, Just some Pancakes and fruit. A cinnamon roll if you’re feeling generous.” 

_Of course she’s feeling generous! She’s always feeling generous!_

Her stomach groaned again as Jesse ambled back to the kitchen counter. Petra slipped a hand under the table, rubbing her stomach in small circles in hopes to keep it quiet. With everyone talking quietly or focusing on their plates, no one seemed to notice- Olivia only continued her soft conversation with Axel while Ivor and Harper quibbled over what Petra could only assume was result of Harper playfully stealing from his plate. Radar had taken to watching the two of them with a quaint smile. 

Petra flinched again when Jesse set a plate in front of her, touching her shoulder gently as she sat in her own seat once more. “I hope you like it, but you always love my cooking, don’t you?”

She refused to look at Jesse. Instead, she looked at the plate she’d been given- mostly golden browns with splashes of color that were the mixed berries and the white frosting of the not one, but two cinnamon rolls she’d been given. Alongside it, the pancakes had been given a generous amount of butter and syrup with a dollop of cream to top them off. 

Jesse wasn’t wrong. Her cooking was amazing, whether Petra wanted it to be or not. Although the way it induced a particular level of internal screaming made it less enjoyable than it could have been. 

“Yeah, Jesse. Thanks.” 

She was hesitant to grab her own fork, but the low growl of her stomach left her no choice. It also earned her a look from Jesse, who gave a knowing glance towards her middle. Petra continued to evade eye contact, scooting closer to the table. She didn’t need to look at Jesse to know of the soft, smug smile she wore. 

Even after she’d gotten through several forkfuls (of what were some of the sweetest, fluffiest pancakes Jesse had yet made), the off feeling of /need/ in her stomach and occasional soft growls persisted, developing only after a few minutes into hunger greater pangs. 

_What more do you want?_ She was already eating, already comfortable, her stomach was getting the food no matter where she put it, yet it only continued its quiet protests. Thankfully quiet, but it was only a matter of time before its temper was lost. 

The only reason it would act like this would be- 

… 

No. She wasn’t going to feed it like that. Not here, not now. 

Not until it growled audibly enough for Jesse to look at Petra with concern rather than smug interest, and for Olivia to glance at her with a similar expression. 

“I’m fine.” She laughed nervously as she spoke. When she ran her hand across her middle again, Petra found that patches of the sweater had become wet with the saliva of the beast residing in her. Far from dripping, but enough to be visible dark spots if she were to stand. 

Jesse shrugged, turning her attention back to her own plate. Still, there was no missing the way she kept glancing at Petra with that look of concern, pity, and worst of all- _interest_. She knew the look too well. Far better than she’d ever wanted to admit. 

_Fine. I’ll play your little game._

She ripped a small piece from an already half-unfurled cinnamon roll with the end of her fork. It tore from the rest of the pastry easily, and was lowered underneath the table as soon as Petra was sure Olivia wouldn’t notice. She held the piece low until she was sure her stomach could take it, retrieving the fork when she felt the taste of sweet cinnamon at her core. 

The fork was completely clean when it appeared above the table again. Upon further examination, cleaned thoroughly, as saliva trailed far enough up to the handle where it had nearly coated the tips of her fingers. 

Part of her wanted to grab another fork, but… the slobber had come from _her_ , technically. She’d deal with it. 

Another moment passed, and with it, another forkful to the maw. A pattern became established; Look left, look right, pretend to pay attention to something else and feed the beast a morsel of this or that. Something that would have been easier if Jesse weren’t peeking at her every minute or two. 

Petra couldn’t blame her for caring. If only she knew that maybe now wasn’t the best time, but at least her cooking and secrecy had been enough to sate Petra’s “issue” for now. 

Until it wasn’t. 

When her fork was pulled up from under the table after the last of a cinnamon roll had been sacrificed to her stomach, Petra looked up to find Ivor staring at her across the table. Their eyes met for a brief moment. As they did, his were narrowed and dark with suspicion. 

She glared back for a brief moment before breaking contact, refusing to look at him again. Lord knew how long he’d been watching, trying to see if his little plan had worked, probably. 

After a few minutes passed and another soft growl from her core disturbed her, Petra glanced around the room nervously. Ivor had returned his attention to his own plate, going so far as to bicker again with Harper who wore a too-wide grin. 

She planted her fork into a particularly dry piece of pancake and snuck it under the table as she had several times before. A moment passed, and another- but nothing. When she pulled her fork above the table again, it reemerged untouched. 

_What?_

Less coordinated in her actions, she promptly stuck the fork’s contents into her own mouth and began tapping her foot impatiently, waiting until it seemed as though no one was paying attention to her. When their focuses were finally elsewhere, she stuck her fork into a strawberry and slipped it underneath the shadow of the table. 

Nothing again. Beads of sweat began to gather on the back of her neck. She tried again, offering cinnamon roll it had been give once over, but it worked to no avail. There was a rumble of displeasure from her middle. 

And then, a voice, a half-concerned laugh sweetly topped with curiosity. “Petra, what are you doing?” Lukas cocked his head at her from across the table. “Is Rosie under there or something? 

A chill of terror shot up her spine. Petra’s legs crossed tightly and the seam of her sweater was pulled down firmly in a tight fist, though Lukas didn’t dare look down. She gave him a crooked smile, stuttering a lie so poor that Soren would have been ashamed of her skill. “Ah- well- Well it’s just that I-” 

Not a full lie, actually. Not even a full sentence, but It had been an attempt. 

Before Petra had the chance to finish, a dark feeling twisted deep in her. Some form of anger, furiosity even. The mouth on her stomach had suddenly decided to make its frustrations known to the rest of them with a loud and unruly gnarl. Several heads snapped in her direction accompanied by a sudden silence. 

Heat pooled in her cheeks as Petra became keenly aware of how many eyes rested on her. The mouth they could see remained twisted into a crooked smile that only spoke of guilt of the one they’d heard. 

She’d been outed by her own gut and cornered by the gaze of her family. So maybe it was only natural the way her dread turned to numbness, the way her legs twitched and told her _run_. 

So she did. Petra backed out of her seat clumsily, holding her stomach almost to shield it as she stood and backed away rapidly, back of the chair hitting the floor as she’d put little care into her action. 

“I’m sorry, I- I don’t feel- I’ll be right back.” No you won’t.

She was far more occupied with running as quickly as she could to the bathroom to hide rather than stay to observe their expressions, their concerns. At least this way they got the impression that the food had simply made her sick. 

But Jessie knew better. _Ivor_ knew better, if this was his doing, and the only thing between them now would be a long hall and a rusty lock.

**Author's Note:**

> This came out more horror-ish and angsty than I expected, but the next chapters should lighten up.


End file.
